


A Sense of Touch

by lal nila syrin (lalnilasyrin)



Series: Blind Sighted [4]
Category: D N Angel, D.N. Angel, D.N.Angel, DN Angel, DNAngel, d. n. angel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blind Character, Blindness, Friendship, Gen, blind!daisuke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 08:19:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2461304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lalnilasyrin/pseuds/lal%20nila%20syrin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dark didn't understand, and often wondered why Daisuke never wanted the gift of sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sense of Touch

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for Jill's birthday. Even I didn't expect to continue the Blind!Daisuke AU series... it sort of came out of nowhere. Like Colorless, this is another side story and not quite a sequel.

In all his generations, Dark had never had a tamer whom he was more content to just take the backseat to. Not that he liked having to hang out at the back of the mind he shared with said tamer, but he found that being out and about and trying to walk was a little more frustrating than anything was worth.

 _Trying_  to walk being the keyword, because if trying to  _walk_  was a pain, then trying to  _pull off a heist_  was even worse.

And he couldn’t help but secretly envy—and feel a bit of awe at—his tamer’s ability to do both so easily, because it was  _his_  disability that frustrated Dark so much.

Yet there was something about the kid that drew the phantom thief to him—his innocent yet wise words of the things he couldn’t possibly describe, the grace in which he moved being at the same time so familiar yet different from anything Dark had ever seen before, and a soul that felt both as old as he was yet newborn with its radiating warmth.

And the way he saw the world… god, the way he saw the world had turned Dark’s upside down.

And Dark was the one who could see everything yet nothing at all, when it came to Daisuke.

He often took the backseat, because there, he could  _watch_. He was incorporeal, _untouchable_ , and in that way—as nothing but a spirit by the redhead’s side—he could not have the defects that Daisuke’s body did. He was not blind as he was when he was forced to look through Daisuke’s eyes.

To look through them and see  _nothing_.

And while Dark knew full well he could show Daisuke what he was seeing… it didn’t seem fair to show him the fleeting world around him, when he would never be able to grasp its wonders with his own mind.

As Dark watched Daisuke now, biting his lip in concentration as he ran his fingers over the soft, cool clay on the table Emiko had set up in the garage for him after Satoshi had—to Dark’s dismay and surprise—introduced him to sculpting, he wondered if Daisuke ever, ever got curious about what he himself looked like.

Because Dark was seeing a young, round-faced boy whose hair was the brightest red Dark had ever seen—it was also the messiest, locks and strands sticking out in every direction much like Dark’s own probably would have, had it been shorter. Dark was seeing a short, skinny boy who, if he looked closely enough at his coming-into-broad shoulders, had strength hidden away in every muscle of his stick-thin body. Dark was seeing white teeth worrying slightly-pink lips and the most focused look he had ever seen in white eyes that had never seen. Dark was seeing a fire of determination in those eyes that were so hauntingly silver yet tinged with what would have been a beautiful scarlet like his own, if their color had not been eaten away by their own personal curse.

He wondered if he could ever show Daisuke what he looked like, because it didn’t seem  _fair_  that he would never know—but Dark knew that showing him would be just as unfair.

Just being with Daisuke constantly reminded him how grateful he should be that the wonders of sight were not normally lost to him, and he was glad for the gift of sight.

But for all that he could see, he could not see why Daisuke did not want it.

"How’s it look?"

The words broke Dark out of his musings, and he blinked as he startled. He made a noncommittal grunt, watching in a strange sort of morbid fascination as Daisuke turned in his general direction. It was really kind of freaky that, despite being a disembodied spirit, Daisuke could always pinpoint where his voice was coming from and where he was currently standing or lounging anyway.

"Was that a ‘it looks good’ sound or a ‘I don’t care’ sound?" The redhead asked in amusement, silver eyes twinkling like pale stars. The kid was  _amused_?

"Don’t care," he attempted to sound as disinterested as possible, though he did take a closer look at whatever Daisuke was making. A bust of some sort… the face was a little narrow, and the hair looked like it was supposed to be long.

"Aw, but I’m making  _you_.” Daisuke laughed lightly, and Dark found himself at a loss for words, blinking in that dumbfounded way at his tamer. He half wondered if Daisuke was joking just to tease him.

Daisuke grinned widely, childish and playful, but seeming sincerely honest. “It looks nothing like you, huh?”

"What—it, uh," Dark didn’t know how to respond, not sure if he should think the gesture sweet or be indignant because  _yeah_ , it looked nothing like him. “It needs work,” he finally said lamely—not a compliment, probably an insult, but not too harsh.

"I know. It’s not like I have much of a reference to go by, though…" Daisuke turned back to the half-finished bust, reaching out carefully toward the clay again with nimble, long fingers. "The only time I really ever saw what you looked like was when I first transformed into you—I haven’t had many other chances to look."

Dark stared at him for a moment, still a little shocked and definitely confused now, before he remembered when his brain caught up with him that,  _Right, Daisuke has his own ways of ‘seeing’._

Dark never understood it. He saw the way the boy’s mind worked, but in all that darkness and colorlessness, he couldn’t grasp what shapes the boy formed in his mind to allow him to ‘see’.

"We could transform right now and you can have a look," Dark shrugged. Hey, as long as he didn’t have to move from that stool, he was fine with getting off autopilot for a while. It might be nice to feel the air, as cold and stagnant as it might have been in this dusty old garage. And it was probably smelly too—that’s why Emiko had made the workstation for him out here. How could Daisuke stand the scent of that clay all over his hands?

"Hmm," Daisuke hummed a in contemplation at the suggestion, thumbing away at the clay and giving it a little more shape—eyes, Dark realized. His fingers had slowly been smoothing out the features of the bust into delicate but distinct curves, and now he could see the bridge of a nose much more clearly, and the dip that came right between that bridge and the eyes.

After a long moment, when both eyes had formed more distinctly, Daisuke turned to face him again. “Are you here?”

"Of course I am—I’m always here," Dark replied with a little confusion, stepping closer and leaning in to more closely inspect the curious look on Daisuke’s face. "I am you, after all. It’s not like I can get far. Nor do I have a reason to."

Daisuke smiled softly, both hands coming up in a way that Dark recognized instantly as Daisuke trying to ‘see’ what expression the people around him were wearing.

Dark sighed and rolled his eyes, waiting for the inevitable realization that he couldn’t touch the phantom thief—not when he wasn’t technically there at all…

Only to freeze in shock as cool, dry, clay-caked fingers met his skin, and a warm sensation rippled from the light brushing touch.

Daisuke didn’t seem to find anything odd, his hands settling themselves on each side of Dark’s face, and the calculating look in his white eyes was an obvious sign that he was forming a shape in his mind.

Dark’s shape.

He could touch Dark. He could  _see_  Dark.

And for a moment, he thought,  _I never thought I’d miss touch._  Because at this moment, he was keenly aware of how little he could interact with the world, spirit as he was. It had been several, several days since he had even emerged from Daisuke—most of the heists were left to Daisuke, seeing as he had better motor control, so Dark had been backseat as usual. Normally he didn’t mind being cut off from the world, but suddenly he wanted nothing more than to be a part of it again.

Suddenly he was leaning into the warm touch of his other, closing his eyes and letting the strange tingling warmth blanket him in a world where he couldn’t feel anything.

And then realized that maybe this is what Daisuke felt, when he saw the world through his fingers and imagined it as something he knew his whole life. Shapes in the darkness…

Warmth in the cold. Touch when there was numbness.

Daisuke’s touch.

And when he opened his eyes, he saw Daisuke smiling softly down at him, and he wondered when he had completely drooped, because suddenly he felt like he was closer to the ground than before. He was only vaguely aware of the smile tugging at his own lips, because even when Daisuke was done memorizing his shape, his form, his being… he still had not let go. As if he knew Dark had not wanted him to.

Truly, Daisuke could see more than anyone Dark had ever known.

Daisuke didn’t need his eyes to see that. Just as, Dark realized, being untouchable didn’t mean that he couldn’t be touched.


End file.
